Of Broken Birds and Black Lustre Soldiers
by Edan Marie
Summary: Baby birds, crazy Egyptians, horny old men and trading cards. Scared yet? You should be.


Of Broken Birds and Black Lustre Soldiers

Grandpa Motou was bored. His shop had no customers, and Yugi wasn't due back home for at least another twenty minutes. He couldn't clean the shop; he'd done that twice already. He couldn't inspect the stock; it was trading cards, it didn't need inspecting.

He sighed. He wouldn't be so bored if he was dead. He kept praying to God for it to be his turn next, but life ceased to end. God wanted him to stick around, and gave all the heartaches to other lucky people in Domino City.

'It's just not fair. When is it my turn, damn it?" Grandpa huffed, thoroughly miserable. His eyes flickered to a poster on the wall, and a gleam of excitement appeared in his eyes. Maybe not thoroughly miserable...

"Oh, Black Lustre Soldier. It's been a long time."

Rising from his aged and battered stool, Grandpa hobbled over to the gleaming poster. It beckoned to him, the Soldier's ebony eyes stirring some fierce emotion deep within the old man. Gently removing the poster from the wall, Grandpa began to undress.

Meanwhile, a young and multi-colour haired boy was skipping briskly home with several of his close friends. Standing beside him- and struggling to keep pace- was Joey Wheeler, Yugi's oldest friend.

Behind them were Tristan and Tea, who were arguing in hushed tones about how they might become main characters at some point. Bakura, who was well within earshot, didn't have the heart to tell them that their series had ended some five or six years ago.

On either side of Bakura were Marik Ishtar and Serenity Wheeler. Serenity wasn't speaking much, since she was too busy being wooed by the effeminate gamer Duke Devlin. From time to time, Duke shot Tristan smug grins of triumph, Serenity oblivious to it all.

On Marik's shoulder was a small brown bird, on which Marik kept cooing over and petting with his finger.

"Bakura, isn't Mr. Tweetums just the cutest bird ever? Of course, Florence is cuter, but he's a kitty cat, isn't he?" Marik chirped.

"For the last bloody time, I'm not a cat!" The snarl tore out of Bakura's mouth, prompting Yugi to whirl around in horror. Seeing Bakura standing there, his panic subsided. It was just a minor character. No reason to be worried.

Reaching the door to his house, Yugi swung the door open with a flourish to invite his friends in. However, the moment his eyes fell upon the room before him he let out a gasp of disbelief and terror.

Standing in front of him- or rather, lying- was his own grandfather, bare body draped over a stained poster of the Black Lustre Soldier card.

'Not again.' Yugi thought grimly. His grandfather looked up in shock, shame clear in his eyes. Yugi glanced at his friends, seeing varying levels of alarm showing in their expressions. Bakura, the poor fellow, had turned positively lime with disgust, whilst Serenity was so overwhelmed with disbelief that she fainted dead away.

For a moment, there was silence.

"Grandpa! What are you doing? And don't you dare say you were cleaning that poster again!" Yugi yelled, ignoring the wondering stares from people outside peering in the open doorway.

"I... I..." What could he say, what could he say? There was nothing Grandpa could have said to resolve the situation. Anything would simply make it worse. He'd humiliated his grandson right in front of his friends! As for himself, well, he was too overcome with shock to feel anything.

Before he could reply however, Tristan spoke up.

"Hey, Marik's missing. And so's Mr. Tweetums." He sounded confused, but all at once Bakura looked horrified. He was even paler than usual, his milky complexion worsening by the second.

From above their heads came the energetic squeaking of bedsprings. Serenity, who had just woken, passed out again as sickened understanding dawned in her hazel eyes. Yugi looked ready to throw up, and bolted for the staircase.

But before he could reach it, there came a sickeningly loud crunch from upstairs. This was followed by what could only be described as the plaintive wailing of a dying bird, after which there came an anguished cry of despair.

"NO! MR TWEETUMS!"

The end.

**AN: Title inspired by Of Mice and Men. I'm sorry, Steinbeck. I really am. I'm also sorry to any readers plagued with mental images. I just had to get this story out of my system.**


End file.
